


Once Upon a Dream

by Celticas



Series: Trope Bingo [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Waking up in Medical Trope, clint's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23092042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celticas/pseuds/Celticas
Summary: Clint wakes in Medical to the one person he knows can't be there.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Trope Bingo [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518110
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83
Collections: Clint/Coulson Trope Bingo





	Once Upon a Dream

Things weren’t quite right. The bright light of medical burnt the back of his eyelids, and the smell of antiseptics was strong in his nose. But there was a warm, calloused hand in his that hadn’t been there for a long time and there was a distinct lack of beeps and whirs from machines. Maybe he was dreaming. A fever or pain fed dream of the thing he wanted most but that his mind couldn’t quite conjure accurately.

It had been almost half a decade since the day on the ruined streets of New York when Nat had shattered his world. Every night for the first year he had dreamed of his husband. In every and any situations. Ones they had been in and ones they hadn’t. He watched Phil bleed out by his own hand, and by the hand of friends and foes. He had writhed under a ghost in the heat of love and sex only to wake to a cold bed. Slowly, with time the dreams and nightmares had faded.

Over the years only coming under the influence in medical or when he was delirious from illness, injury, or some douche bros having kidnapped him and beaten him within an inch of his life. All of those were bad, hazy nightmares of pain and loss.

This wasn’t that. But it wasn’t right either. Couldn’t be right.

He refused to open his eyes. When he opened them there would probably be cold cement or stone walls, chains and blood. Loosing this again would break him. He couldn’t keep doing this. Feeling the thing he wanted the most only to lose it when he opened his eyes. Being hit by loss and grief all over again, a fresh wound over a scar that never healed quite right.

“Clint? It’s okay. You can open your eyes.”

It even sounded like Phil. God, he had forgotten his voice. He hadn’t realised he had but hearing it murmur reassurances to him was a punch in the gut. A tear leaked out of his eye. And then another and another.

“It’s okay.” 

The hand moved from his and a whimper escaped his lips. Quickly it returned, settling on his neck and running up is skin to his cheek.

“Open your eyes.”

“No.” He didn’t want to face reality. He would happily stay here in this in-between for the rest of his life.

Memory-Phil left him be, letting him have the time he needed, but didn’t move his hand from where it cradled his face. Clint could remember every time he was feeling unsure, or on the wrong foot, Phil gave him the space to work through it. Let him breathe. From before they had gotten together, the other man had known he saw better from a distance and respected that. He had never taken it personally when Clint had withdrawn into himself, away from the one person he should have been able to lean on. 

Clint wasn’t sure how long they stayed in silent stasis. He counted his heartbeats, the steady thump of life through his veins, and the matching thump-thump he could feel from Phil. He fell asleep to the rhythm. Or the dream gave way to dark oblivion. It was harder to keep track of the fact that this wasn’t real. That he would eventually have to open his eyes in a world without Phil.

Nothing had changed when he became aware again. The too-bright light was still somewhere above him, the lack of the correct smells and sounds still had his hackled up at the inherent wrongness of it, and the warm alive hand was still resting on him, his shoulder this time.

“Hey, love.” Phil rubbed his thumb along the pulse point at the base of his throat. 

“I can’t. Phil, I can’t.” He finally moved, curling onto his side toward Phil but kept his eyes closed. “If this is a dream…..” Unable to finish verablising the thought he just let his voice peta off.

“It’s not a dream. You can open your eyes.” Phil pulled the blanket up over his shoulder to keep him warm, tucking it in under him tightly.

“You’ve said that before.” Clint told him miserably.

“I know. But that wasn’t me, this is. I’ll be here no matter how long it takes.”

They lapsed into silence again. Easer this time. Clint was willing to just soak in the presence of the other man, the other half of his soul. Clint woke for a third time. The slide into and back out of sleep had been so gentle he hadn’t realised it was happening.

Phil was still there. A steady presence at his side. Clint was starting to believe he might actually be there when he opened his eyes. It was just a matter of how. Had Clint finally lost it and would be haunted by his husband for how ever many years he had left? Laying with the thought for a while he realised that he was okay with that. He had missed Phil so much that having him back in any form was a blessing.

Giving in, he opened his eyes. Phil was still there. Deep blue eyes looking at him with more warmth than every other person in his life combined.

“Where are we?” Clint looked around the blindingly white room. Slowly details emerged the slightest texture on the walls and ceiling, shadows in the corners that were only there if he didn’t look directly at them. It was disconcerting, and he kept flinching away from something that he wasn’t convinced was there.

“Transition.” Phil answered easily. As if the single word should mean something to him.

And suddenly he did. The knowledge that hadn’t been there a second ago was suddenly there ready for him to use as he needed. It was medical but not. A place to come to terms with where he was now. Phil hadn’t been a figment of his imagination or returned, Clint had gone to him.


End file.
